


Beginners

by FatalYaoi



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Gen, Interview, M/M, Other, S.T.A.R.S
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-15 16:29:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatalYaoi/pseuds/FatalYaoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albert Wesker interviews the interesting Chris Redfield for the new S.T.A.R.S group.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beginners

**Author's Note:**

  * For [siberian74](https://archiveofourown.org/users/siberian74/gifts).



Albert Wesker was a man of standards and class, something very difficult to come by in the recent years. He had his priorities and refused to simply give out his time but when he was given the S.T.A.R.S mission, well, he knew what he had to do.

Hundreds of files and resumes fell across his desk and hundreds went almost directly into the trash. File after file of idiots who varied from ex-cops to simpletons. He didn't need someone who had been through it all already nor did he need someone like him. He needed people with unusual talents, things people wouldn't admit usually—and then he found Chris Redfield.

It was one of the last in the pile. His eyes had gone over each paper of the bunch with little interest though once he chose the woman with the ability to pick locks, he figured he had the whole team until Mr. Redfield came to his attention. Even when the young male brunet sat across from him, Wesker realized just how intriguing he was.

Wesker wore a simple suit; no tie, just a jacket and pants. He sat behind his desk, sunglasses pressed to the bridge of his nose and a serious expression that scared Chris beyond reason—Albert adored that deer-caught-in-headlights look. Chris wore a black button up and jeans, a difficult mix between casual and semi-formal that irked Albert in all the right ways. Chris' resume sat on the desk between them, open with highlighted interesting parts. He was just so  _intriguing_.

Chris was horror struck for the first few minutes. Seven or eight minutes ticked by and neither said anything. Wesker simply watched the brunet and took everything into consideration; his posture, his grandeur, his ability to work with such unpredictable circumstances, the works.

"You were discharged from the—" the blond began, eyes flicking, from behind the dark sunglasses, to Chris' startled face.

"A-Air Force, sir. It should all be in the resume," he said quietly, fingers linking together in his lap and his eyes nervously shifting from Wesker to his file.

Wesker paused and sat back, head tilting in interest.

The boy was so naïve and yet still  _intriguing_. Why was he so interesting? Perhaps it was the slight assertiveness within the complete fear that rubbed the blond in all the right ways. Or perhaps it was the subtle movements like the way Chris' lower lip moved as he bit on it through the stress and the way he squeezed his fingers so tight against each other his knuckles were turning white. Either way, the blond was interested.

"First of all, I am well aware of what is in the file. However, take note that reading from a file is not nearly as interesting as hearing it from the source, do you understand, Redfield?"

"Yes, sir."

"Second of all, if you call me sir again, I'll be forced to throw you out simply due to the fact that I am  _not_  your appointing officer nor am I going to be simply the man who tells you what to do—which is rather good considering you don't seem to work well with bosses. S.T.A.R.S is to be a family and if you are to be a part of it, you will not succumb to the military standards."

"Does that mean I got the job, s—er, Captain?"

The blond smirked through clenched teeth and shook his head slightly.

"We will see, won't we?" Wesker straightened and watch as Chris mimicked the move, pulling himself up in his chair and shuffling to get comfortable. "Tell me, Mr. Redfield—"

"Just call me Chris."

"I'd prefer not. Tell me, Mr. Redfield, why do you interest me?"

Chris seemed taken aback by the question and began to stumble over his words as he searched for the correct words.

"I-I suppose it's my difficult b—" Chris stopped and sat back, slumping slightly in his chair once again.

Albert was not impressed.

"I have no idea," Chris said truthfully. "I didn't think I would be right for the job and I obviously didn't think I would get picked."

The brunet had a dark, depressed side and Albert listened to it carefully. He listened as Chris' inner doubts came spewing from him in just a few words. His doubts of his abilities, the harsh reality of getting discharged and the effects it had seeped from the quietly spoken words. His interest yet lack-there-of in the job and the raised suspicion that it was all simply a joke fell from the words and Albert saw it all. The boy truly was as naïve as he seemed, it was almost cute.

Almost.

"And yet, here you sit. I will ask again and you will answer," the blond stated carefully. "Why do you interest me?"

Chris thought, this time. His eyes were down turned and his lip was being chewed furiously but he was thinking harder than necessary. Albert saw Chris' doubtful side leave him, if not for a moment, as the realization hit the brunet that he may actually get the job of his dreams, though perhaps he wouldn't believe he was so lucky if he knew what Wesker knew. Either way, another side of Chris emerged, the side Albert wanted to see.

"Well—" Chris began. "I don't really plan on giving you crap about being passionate or skilled, you already know that."

"I also am well aware that you don't seem to have planned anything, but continue."

"You're interested because someone who was recently discharged from the air force is sitting in front of you with no interest in explaining the reasoning behind how or why he was discharged because, just like you said, Mr. Wesker, it's more interesting to hear about something from the person than to read it on a useless piece of paper."

"And yet seconds ago, you claimed you didn't know if you were right for the job."

"I still don't," Chris said truthfully. "The interest in my background should not be the deciding factor on whether I'm capable of doing a job."

"You are far beyond qualified for the job,  _Christopher_ , but as were the remainder eight hundred or so files that came in contact with this desk. Qualified means nothing."

"Interest does?"

"Oh no, certainly not. The fact that you chose that, specifically, to state why you think I may be interested in choosing you tells far more than any ' _useless piece of paper_ ' could tell me. Not allowing an event such as that keep you from chasing a job you don't even know if you're qualified for is a remarkable trait. It reveals that you are driven even if you are not motivated." Wesker paused and smirked once again as Chris simply sat across from him in shock or confusion—though possibly both. "And I'm interested in learning more about you."

Albert sighed and opened a drawer to his right, pulling out a name plate engraved with  _C. Redfield_. He looked at it for a moment, Chris trying hard not to strain himself attempting to look at the name on the plate before Wesker simply slid it across the table and into Chris' lap unexpectedly.

Chris looked at the plate, smiled, and looked up at the blond to see Albert standing, hands behind his back. Chris stood quickly and clutched the nameplate in his left hand, beaming ridiculously.

"I expect you at the Raccoon City Police Department Monday at seven. Do not be late."

"I won't, Captain," Chris said, bouncing on his heels.

"Very well. I'll see you then."

Chris nodded, turned on his heel, and walked from the office. Albert waited until Chris closed the door before he sat down, right leg crossing over his left by the knee and smirk returning to his lips. The blond slid his sunglasses from his nose and set them on his desk, grey eyes falling on Chris' Air Force picture that sat atop the small pile of papers in the file.

He wore his Air Force uniform and hat, a small, proud smile on his lips that also reflected in his bright blue eyes; eyes that had dulled since then. The blond picked up the picture and sat back in his seat as he examined it closer.

Albert had already been through interviews with the remainder of the team and most of them had been interesting but Chris was different. Chris had a spark that Albert simply could not wait to ignite when the time came to destroy them all. As talented as they were, they would be no match for Umbrella.

Until then, Albert would have his fun.


End file.
